What Are You Waiting For?
by abiiglorii
Summary: Blaine is about to enter his freshman year at the prestigious Dalton Academy for Boys without a clue who he really is. For the first time in his life, Blaine will have to push his boundaries not only to become a Warbler, but to figure out who he is.


"Hi, I'm Blaine." He stared in the mirror, one long curl flopping over his left eye. He brushed it away, peering deeper into his own eyes. No, that wasn't right. Far too bland. "Hi," he winked before continuing, "I'm Blaine." Or you could wear a sticker that said "Flaming Homosexual" on your forehead. Either/or. He sighed, tugging his curls away from his face as he tried to focus. First impressions were everything, his mother had told him, which is why this first impression, the one he would be making when he finally made the trek from Dublin to Westerville, would be the one that mattered more than any ever had in his life.

There was no use. He was destined to be an awkward freshman for the rest of his life. Well, not freshman. An awkward sophomore, junior, senior, and then probably an awkward CEO. But still. He turned away from his mirror and allowed his body to fall slack onto his bed, limbs bouncing on the mattress. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the freshly starched blazer that his mother had hung in a clear garment bag yesterday. It wasn't the kind of thing an awkward kid wore. It fit tight and snug and it screamed self assurance. What it did not scream was 'junior high was hell for me which is why I'm here'. He pulled himself to his feet with another heavy sigh and crossed the room, gently tugging the thick fabric from the bag and pulled the blazer on over his pajama shirt. He buttoned the brass buttons and was pleased to see that it fit better than before now that the tailor had made alterations. With the beginning of a smile on his face, Blaine met his own eye in the mirror and stood back, arms folded, to survey himself.

From the head down, Blaine was satisfied he looked like a Dalton boy. Well, at least a Dalton boy who woke up late for class. But his face and hair…no, that wasn't right. He'd remembered the how the rest of the students at the all-boys school had looked during his visit: like walking J. Crew models. J. Crew models did not have mounds of curls medusa-style. J. Crew models did not have wide noses. J. Crew models most certainly did not have stubble. Blaine pulled his fingers through his thick hair, tangling the locks at the back of his head as he tried to imagine himself with short hair.

Blaine barely had time to decipher the pounds of footsteps on the staircase before a blinding streak of reds shot into the room and kicked his bedroom door closed behind it.

"Ah ha!" The red exclaimed, which had now, in its lack of movement, proved itself to be a pale girl with unnaturally reddish orange hair. "I caught you!"

Blaine, nonplussed, kept his eyes on himself in the mirror, "What did you catch me at this time, Loren?" He attempted to catch a stray curl that had fallen away from his hands, but the whole bunch ended up scattering across his face and forehead again.

"I caught you…" Loren began, her voice sing-song as she crossed the room, overturning pillows and dirty clothes as she did so, "Reading this!" Her hands clutched a copy of Men's Health with a particularly tasty picture of Leonardo DiCaprio on the front, "While touching yourself!"

"Jesus, Loren!" Blaine said, clearly scandalized as he ripped the magazine from her hand defensively, smoothing the cover between his hand and knee before putting it back on his dresser, "I was not."

"Sure you weren't," Loren said, returning to the same sing-song voice as she captured the magazine again, climbing on Blaine's bed Indian-style as she began to flip through it.

"I wasn't," answered Blaine irritatedly, willing himself to keep the color from his face, "It happens to have an interesting article about veganism in it."

A smirk climbed to Loren's face that Blaine immediately recognized in the reflection of the mirror, "But B, you eat more meat than-"

"Loren! One, that's completely untrue, and two…just…no. "

"Okay, fine. But really, veganism? You tried to be a vegetarian last week and were convinced that fish did not count." Loren countered.

"I was being _pescetarian _, first of all…"

"Regardless. You only have this because Leo is on the front. And shirtless."

Blaine cleared his throat, turning to face her. His arms were folded over his chest and his tone condescending, "He happens to have a lot of interesting things to say about the environment. The fact that he's charming has nothing to do with it."

"Blaine," Loren said with a tiny smirk as she looked away from the magazine and back at him, "We saw Inception and you literally _groaned _when he smiled."

"He has a nice smile," Blaine said weakly, his mind already drifting back to the movie.

"Okay, no pervy gay dreams while the straight best friend is here," she smirked, standing as she studied Blaine, "By the way, look at you. You look like Matt Damon in that one movie."

"Dead Poet's Society," Blaine answered instantly, turning to look at himself in the mirror again, "And he has much better features than I do."

Loren rolled her eyes, "Fine. But still. Leo, eat your heart out." She added a catcall at the end for effect.

He had to laugh at that as he carefully freed his arms from the confines of the blazer and hung it back on the corner of his mirror. He saw, in its reflection, Loren lay back on his rumpled bed, her long legs crossed gracefully at the ankle. For as spastic as his best friend could be, good breeding always won out in the end. "Why are you here anyway?" Blaine asked, piling one box full of clothes on top of another as he sat on top of them.

"It's your last day in Dublin. We should do something fun before you move away to that creepy school and turn into a pretentious nerd."

He rolled his eyes as he stood and grabbed a discarded towel off his desk chair, stripping his shirt off.

"Okay, not that fun," Loren said with mock shock, "Blaine, I don't really think I'm your type."

"I'm taking a shower," he explained exasperatedly, "Go downstairs and bother my mother. You love to do that."

"Nah," she said with a shake of her head, on her feet faster than he could comprehend as she wandered around his room, looking under his bed and between his mattresses.

"What're you doing, Lo?" he asked quizzically, an eyebrow raised in bewilderment.

"Looking for your dirty magazines, they've gotta be around here somewhere."

"They're packed away," replied Blaine sarcastically.

"Tell me which box?" she countered.

"Loren," Blaine sighed, walking out of his room and down the hall toward the bathroom.

"A girl has got to get her kicks somehow!" Loren called after him.

It was nearly noon before Blaine had settled his hair down enough to go downstairs where he found Loren perched on his kitchen counter, his mother leaning over a recipe book and his older brother sitting at the table, the binder of football plays that never seemed to leave his presence open in front of him.

"Morning, love," Blaine's mother smiled warmly at him, her voice sweet.

"Morning, love," Loren mimicked with a devilish smirk.

Blaine ignored Loren and walked over to his mother, leaning against the counter next to her to study the book she was hovered over, "What're you doing?"

"Trying to find something to cook for tonight," his mother answered with a small sigh, "You know, you forgot to mention that you invited Loren over for dinner."

Blaine shot daggers at his best friend who smiled good naturedly, "You know our Blaine, forgetful as always."

"I didn't invite her," he rolled his eyes.

"If you didn't, I will," Blaine's brother called from the table, a cocky smirk on his face that didn't at all resemble Blaine's.

"It's never going to happen," Blaine and Loren answered at the same time.

"Why not?" Dylan stood, crossing the room to stand across the island from where Blaine, Loren, and his mother stood.

"I'm not getting in the middle of this," their mother said with a laugh, holding her hands up in mock surrender as she made her way to the door, "I'm going to the store, you three play nice." The front door shut behind her with a quiet click as she left.

"You're not my type," Loren studied her nails boredly as Dylan leaned his body against the island.

"Oh come on. Captain of the football team, full ride to Ohio State, what's there not to like?" Dylan said teasingly, though they all knew there was some sincerity to his words. He'd been trying to get Loren to go out with him since she and Blaine had become friends in fifth grade.

"Blaine's more my type."

"Blaine likes boys."

"So do I. See? It's perfect."

"I do not!" Blaine countered halfheartedly.

"You sighed at Leonardo DiCaprio during Inception," Dylan rolled his eyes.

Blaine ignored his brother as he grabbed an apple from the table and pulled his sunglasses down over his eyes, "Let's go, Lo." Loren followed him toward the front door as Dylan's voice filled the room.

"Oh don't get your panties in a bunch. I'm kidding!"

"Whatever, Dylan," both Loren and Blaine called behind them.

It wasn't long before Blaine and Loren ended up in the same coffee shop they'd spent nearly every afternoon for the past summer, the two of them splitting a piece of cheesecake and guzzling two iced coffees. Although he wouldn't admit it to himself, Blaine knew he was going to miss this. Not even Dublin or the coffee shop, but his friend, despite how annoying she might be.

"Hey B?" Loren asked, breaking the silence as she took another bite from the quickly diminishing cake.

"Yeah?" Blaine plunged his fork into the cheesecake, letting it stand straight up as he looked back at his friend, wondering how exactly she got her hair that particular shade of red.

"I've been thinking," she began between chewing and taking a sip of her coffee, "I'm not sure you going to that Dalton School for Stuck Up Boys is a great idea."

Blaine's eyes rolled on impulse but he decided to indulge her, "Yeah? And why is that?"

"Okay, so think about this," Loren began, plunging her own fork into the cheesecake as she cracked her knuckles, "You're going to leave and make all these great friends and develop terrible fashion sense and start wearing two polos as at time and-"

"Loren." Blaine cut in irritatedly.

"Okay, okay so you're going to do all that. And I'm going to be here. Alone. Without someone who understands that brown and black just don't go together."

Despite himself, Blaine laughed.

"And so one night, in a fit of agony and pain, I'm going to show up at your house just to be near something that you owned and Dylan will be there. And I'll be vulnerable and we'll end up sleeping together and I'll get pregnant and wear really ugly maternity clothes and mom jeans and Dylan will make me name our kid Spike or Brett Farve or something-"

"What?"

"-and I'll start going into restrooms of gas stations without shoes on and buying people ugly sweaters for Christmas and everyone will say "There's weird Aunt Loren…she would've been fine if Blaine never left" and then I'll die alone in a trailer while your brother eats raw hot dogs."

Blaine stared at his friend for a moment whose eyes met his unblinking as they continued like that in a stand off before the twitching at the corner of Blaine's mouth became a smile which filled his whole face, his eyes nearly squeezed shut and he blinked.

"I win. You probably shouldn't leave."

Blaine wiped tears of mirth from the corners of his eyes as he took another sip of his coffee, finally gathering himself to the point which he could speak clearly, "You're out of your mind."

"Maybe," Loren shrugged, wrapping her arms around herself after pushing her empty cup away from her, "But I will miss you."

Blaine smiled at her, feeling a tug on his heart as he looked at the slight frown on his best friend's face. He reached his hand across the table and grabbed hers in it, a thin yet reassuring smile stretching his lips, "Hey." he whispered, his voice low as his eyes looked up at her, his chin resting on the table. Her eyes met his, and had he not known any better, he would've wondered if she was about to cry. "We are going to be fine. Just don't hang out with my brother, okay?" He offered her a teasing smile.

It was nearly midnight before Blaine finished packing and loading boxes into his parent's Lexus SUV. If it weren't for Dylan, he was sure it would've been a few more hours until he was done. For as much as Dylan gave him a hard time, he knew his brother would miss him even though he'd never admit it. It wasn't the way he was. In fact, it wasn't really the way anyone in his family had ever been.

Dinner had gone as well as he could've hoped. Even though Loren had dominated much of the conversation, per usual, it was nice to see the people he cared about huddled around one table, even if that family was eating slightly burnt chicken because Loren insisted that it was the way people ate it in France. Because the fact of the matter was, whether Blaine liked it or not, those were the only people he had. For as much shit as Dylan gave him, he was the only person in the entire school who would dish it back to the jerks who made fun of his little brother. For as annoying as Loren could be, she was the only one who could console him after he came out to his parents. For as scatter-brained as his mother could be, she was the only one who truly loved him for everything that he was and wasn't. And, for as unnervingly unbending as his father could be, he was the only one who could make Blaine feel that his being gay hadn't disappointed him, though deep down Blaine knew that it did, even if that part of his father was small.

Going to Dalton was going to change that. That was the one thing that Blaine was really sure of. He rolled over onto his side, wishing that sleep didn't feel so far away. It wasn't that he wasn't exhausted, in fact every inch of his body ached from carrying boxes up and down the stairs out to the car. No, what kept him awake tonight was anxiety and worry, not only for what Dalton would be like, but what he would be like at Dalton. Would he be accepted? Cool? A stand out? Or would he blend in like he used to at Coffman, that is until he was outted. Part of Blaine thought blending in would be a relief, but the other part of him knew it would only mean more shock once it came out that the kdi with the goofy hair was into boys.

Blaine looked out the window of his bedroom toward the sky, counting in barely the whisper the stars that shone through the pane. It was the last thing he did before he succumbed to sleep.


End file.
